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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25185292">Let Him Sleep</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngand_doomed/pseuds/youngand_doomed'>youngand_doomed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>‘Let’s Play Pretend’ AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mindless Self Indulgence (Band), My Chemical Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Depression, F/M, M/M, Other, Parenthood, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Mikey Way</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:54:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,367</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25185292</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngand_doomed/pseuds/youngand_doomed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Normally, it’s a pain in the ass to get Mikey out of bed.’</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lindsey Ballato/Gerard Way, Ray Toro/Mikey Way</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>‘Let’s Play Pretend’ AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Let Him Sleep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Normally, it’s a pain in the ass to get Mikey out of bed. When they were teenagers, Gerard would barge into Mikey’s room and tear the sheets off him, so Ray tried that technique for a while. But then he started sleeping naked, and Ray couldn’t bring himself to expose Mikey like that on tour. When they were on the bus, it didn’t matter too much if Mikey didn’t get out of bed until their sound check. At home, it was different. They went through a pot of coffee before Mikey was willing to haul himself out of bed, and another before he was functioning enough to do anything. This was particularly a problem when baby Rowan came into the picture.</p><p>If Rowan needed feeding in the night, it was always Ray that had to get up and do it, because Mikey was barely awake by the time that he was back in bed and pulling him close to his chest. It left him exhausted, to be honest - Mikey was doing all the work in the day, sure, but both of them needed a good night’s sleep to get things done well. Mikey was sure he felt the tension rising more and more often, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it; how was he supposed to break the habit of a lifetime?</p><p>So every morning at ten, Mikey would roll out of bed (which was earlier than it usually was, granted), and take Rowan away from Ray. More often than not, they avoided each other during the way, because he was too busy with looking after the baby to deal with another huge argument like the one they’d had a week earlier. That one had woken up Rowan from her nap, which she desperately needed because she was up thrice a night, and then they went back to ignoring each other.</p><p>Another problem that came with the young baby was what Gerard called the ‘baby blues’, but his therapist was more convinced it was post-natal depression. He’d laughed and brushed it away, because he already knew he was depressed. It had nothing to do with Rowan being there now. But whenever he saw her, he’d either burst into tears, or get close, or go into a numb state that lasted for the rest of the day until he was warm in bed with Ray again. He knew it was because he wanted his life to go back to how it was before all of this mess happened, and it was not her fault at all, but he couldn’t help blaming her a little.</p><p>“You’re a menace, Rowan,” he mumbled while he changed her the next day. The guilt of being mean to her at all made him feel vile and sick in the back of his mouth, but he was angry. He could sense another impending argument, and he needed someone to blame. “I wish you’d never been born.”</p><p>He lay her down for a nap after that, trying to forget about what he’d said. He busied himself with cleaning up the apartment, going around and collecting all the dirty laundry to get washed. Since she was asleep, and Ray was sleeping on the couch, he decided he could take it then and bring it back before she was awake and wanting to be fed again. Maybe the guilt would’ve gone away by then, and the gesture might cheer up the mood between him and Ray for once.</p><p>So he piled all their clothes into one of the baskets laying around, and hauled it down to the nearest laundromat. While he loaded the washing into two separate machines - he used a much better and more expensive detergent for Rowan - he felt the guilt setting in for saying what he’d said to her. It wasn’t her fault at all that things were suddenly changing; it was his and Ray’s fault for not using a condom at some point, or not going to get a morning after pill if something had gone wrong. He ended up crying as he waited for it to be done, muffling it under the sounds of the machine.</p><p>When he finally took all the washing back home, he had been gone longer than he intended to be out. It wasn’t his fault that there had been a bunch of people waiting to use the dryers, because the bad weather meant no one could hang anything out. He was wishing over and over in his head for Rowan to still be asleep when he went back inside. But he heard her wailing as he opened the door, and he quickly dropped the washing basket on the floor and rushed to her room.</p><p>Ray was in there with her, rocking her gently and trying to get her to calm down. He looked furious when he looked up and saw Mikey in the doorway. “Where the fuck were you? She’s been awake for half an hour, and she won’t stop crying - you’re a terrible dad, you just left her!” He couldnt help the pathetic whimper that left his mouth as he carefully took her back, walking in circles to try and quiet her. </p><p>He knew what Ray had said was true. He also knew that he’d probably apologise for it later, even though Mikey didn’t deserve that. It was times like this, pacing back and forth between the crib and the set of drawers, that he wondered if maybe they weren’t good together. Sometimes, he thought about what would’ve happened if he’d ended up sticking with his original plan of letting Ray keep her and look after her. Because whatever they had now clearly wasn’t working. He even considered suicide again, but he knew he couldn’t leave Rowan now - he wanted to be her dad even if he was bad at it.</p><p>After a bottle, she had stopped crying and was content to be bounced on Mikey’s hip as he made dinner for them. He knew these first months were the hardest; in a few months, when she was a little older, the arguments and the crying would calm down between him and Mikey. He made a mental note to ask his therapist for a bigger dose of antidepressants to combat whatever was going through his head right now, and went back to stirring the weird vegetarian thing Frank had recommended to him.</p><p>Once it was ready, Ray came into the room and sat down at the table. The air between them was awkward; he could see his red eyes from sleep, and knew his own were probably the same from crying. He silently dished up Ray’s, then went to leave the room to put Rowan down before he could have his own.</p><p>“Where are you going?” Ray glanced over at him, looking confused and upset. “Don’t you wanna have dinner with me anymore?”</p><p>“I’m just putting Rowan to bed.. I’ll be out to eat in a few minutes. You should eat before it gets cold.” And that was the extent of the conversation between them. He sat in the nursery for longer than he needed to, really; he was trying to forget about the distance that was between them now. It felt like they were falling apart, and it almost made him cry again. He sat beside her crib, leaning on the wall and watching as she stopped wriggling under her blankets and finally fell asleep.</p><p>When he went down to eat, he was alone again. There was a dirty bowl and glass in the sink, and a note on the table: ‘going out to see Frank, be back later’. He probably wouldn’t be back until tomorrow, because that’s how Frank was. Knowing him, Jamia had probably gone away to see her parents, leaving Frank alone and desperate for someone to talk to. He spooned out some of the stew thing and put on a pot of coffee, readying himself for the night.</p><p>His eyelids were beginning to droop when Rowan wanted her first bottle of the night. It was only ten, but all the work during the day that he had been doing before left him exhausted. The second was around two, and by then, he’d drank three full pots of coffee in an attempt to keep himself awake. She was refusing to go back to sleep after she’d finished, and Mikey was worried about getting another noise complaint. She threw up down the back of a hoodie that he was sure was Ray’s, and only started to drift back to sleep when she’d tired herself out from crying. At that point, Mikey himself was crying as well, and went to take an unhealthy amount of pills to calm himself and poured another cup of coffee.</p><p>As suspected, Ray wasn’t back home until six the next morning, when Rowan was waking up for her third bottle. He was drunk out of his mind as well, which didn’t help Mikey’s situation with Rowan - he just wanted Ray to leave him alone when he stank that bad of beer and possibly weed if he thought about it enough. It made him angry, but not angry enough to yell; he figured that he deserved some sort of punishment for not being able to get up most nights. He drank half a bottle of vodka once both Ray and Rowan had fallen asleep, and it was the first he’d drank in almost a year.</p><p>He told his therapist the next day (which was technically the same day) about the drinking and all the fighting. She seemed concerned. “Have any of the fights between you been violent?”</p><p>“God, no - Ray couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone me or the baby. It’s my own fault most of the time anyway, because I struggle to get up in the night with Rowan. Makes things worse between us.”</p><p>“But you say you do all of the work with her and the chores during the day while he sleeps? And make three meals a day for him, and he still gets angry with you?”</p><p>Mikey avoided answering her question by asking about antidepressants, and she didn’t bring it up again. He thought about it on the way home, though. Even then, walking back through the streets and getting soaked, he felt like such an idiot. Ray had insisted he walk to therapy, even though it was raining, because he might need the car for an emergency with Rowan. He didn’t know what to do. He knew whatever decision he made would have to be permanent, though, because he couldn’t bare to mess around with Rowan like that.</p><p>Back inside the house, he stripped out of his soaking clothes, and then tiptoed around the silent house. He’d been expecting either Rowan to be messing and about to scream, or to be currently screaming, or for them both to be asleep separately. What he didn’t expect was for Ray to be slumped awkwardly against the headboard of their bed, with a half finished bottle in one hand and Rowan curled up in the crook of his elbow. Mikey almost felt himself melt at the sight of them, his heart bursting with badly contained pride. He snook a picture before going off to take a shower so he wouldn’t freeze to death. All of his worries had gone away - they were fine. They would get through this, because they were Mikey-And-Ray.</p><p>After his shower, he put on his warmest pyjamas and turned the heat up as high as it could go, making sure all the gaps under the doors were blocked. Their apartment had a tendency to get soaked in this sort of storm, which was funny when it was just them living there, but probably a hazard with a baby around. Then, he padded softly back to the bedroom, flicking off all the other lights as he went. He had armfuls of blankets, which he dumped on the bed before going to grab the travel crib that they’d bought, and setting up it up by the side of their bed. Both of them were still asleep, so he carefully took Rowan way from Ray and put her in the crib, before curling up with him where she’d been a moment before.</p><p>If you asked Mikey what he thought he’d be doing at twenty seven ten years ago, he probably wouldn’t have said, “I’d be in bed with a guy I’d been with for almost three years, and we’d have a sleeping baby next to the bed.” And while it was definitely not planned, he was used to the domestic life now. He dreaded going back to writing in a few months, because it would mean leaving Rowan with someone else.</p><p>“Mikey, you’re back,” he heard Ray whisper a few minutes later. When he looked up, he was beaming at him: something he hadn’t seen in months. “How was therapy?”</p><p>“‘S fine. I got soaked on the way home. She was worried that I’m overworked with the baby, but I told her I’m fine.” Ray chuckled.</p><p>“Well, you’re certainly not the only one doing the work.” It was meant to be a joke, and both of them knew that, but Mikey set his jaw in annoyance and opted to rest his head against his side instead of addressing it. He had, actually, done all of the work in the house from ten in the morning yesterday until he had to leave for therapy today. He could still smell the beer on him now that he was thinking about it.</p><p>“Have fun at Frank’s last night?” His response was clipped, probably meant to sound annoyed but not as much as it came across. “Rowan was crying when you got back, you tried to snatch her off me.”</p><p>“I didn’t mean to stay and get drunk, you know that.” And suddenly he wasn’t annoyed anymore, because the softness in his tone wouldn’t be there if they were about to have a yelling match.</p><p>“I know. Missed you.”</p><p>He probably drifted off at some point in the evening - the apartment was warm for once, and he was wrapped up in blankets and the fuzzy feeling in his chest was too nice to ignore. But when he woke up, it was gone, because Rowan was screaming again and Ray couldn’t calm her down, and they were back to the short comments and tension. He made Ray dinner again that night, refusing to eat any himself, and made enough coffee to last himself the night. He just wanted the arguing to stop.</p><p>The arguments didn’t stop. They got worse and worse and worse. When Rowan reached six months, he was hoping that they’d stop being so angry with each other, because things were definitely easier now. But things were not easier after six months, so he kept hoping it would be seven months, eight months, nine months. When she was that old, she was sleeping through the night, but Mikey’s sleep schedule had been so fucked up that he started taking midnight walks to escape the coldness that he got when he was in bed.</p><p>He refused to tell anyone that they were growing apart though. He smiled bravely at the Christmas party Gerard had when it was just him and Rowan - Ray had been at home, but he’d lied and said he was busy with family. He lied to his therapist and said that things were better between them now, and that he needed more pills because he was just going through a rough patch. He started packing small things that no one would notice missing when Ray was asleep; after a few weeks, he had bags full of most of his clothes in the trunk of his car. He’d even gone far enough to start looking for another apartment he could live in with Rowan.</p><p>At night, when he was sure everyone was asleep, he’d lie on the ground in the nursery and cry. Everything was ruined, and it was all his fault. If he’d tried to stay up through the night with her earlier, they wouldn’t have had any arguments in the first place. The worst part was the band - he couldn’t bring himself to break up with Ray in case it messed with the band. He started contacting a touring bassist who played in his place when he got sick, because he needed someone to fill his place if things got bad. Which, of course, they did.</p><p>The first time he overdosed had been when he was sixteen, and it was the most terrifying experience of his life. He hadn’t even meant to overdose - he took too many of his sleeping pills when they didn’t work, and ended up needing his stomach pumped. But this time, when he stared down at the bottle of pills in his hand, he knew that he meant it. He was so close to ending it all, because he was convinced it would make things easier. No more Mikey getting in the way of anything. Ray could marry a girl or guy and raise Rowan with them, and he’d be happier than being stuck in a dead-end relationship. Rowan wouldn’t have an upbringing where her parents were arguing constantly. Gerard wouldn’t have to look after his kid brother anymore.</p><p>Ray found him before he’d taken them. He wanted to scream and tell him it was easier to take the pills, but he ended up telling him everything instead while he sobbed. Everything from him telling Rowan he wished she hadn’t been born when she was only three months old, and him staying up all night for months on end because he was scared that they were falling apart, and lying to everyone about being okay. He confessed about the bags of clothes in the trunk of his car, about finding a replacement bassist for the band, about looking for new apartments that Ray wouldn’t be living in. Ray didn’t move a muscle while he spoke, apart from running a hand through his hair.</p><p>“You should’ve told me sooner, Mikes,” Ray whispered into the silence once he’d finished, cradling him against his chest. “I didn’t mean to be so distant with you, I’m just exhausted and I was glad to be getting some rest. But if I’d known what you were doing to yourself-.” He cut himself off there. Mikey wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was at the end of the sentence. “We should go to bed, honey. It’s late, and you need the rest.”</p><p>He carried Mikey back to their room, leaving the bottle of pills on the coffee table. It reminded him of when they’d started dating, during the first big tour they had, when Ray would try and carry him everywhere. It was difficult then, because Ray wasn’t exactly strong and Mikey wasn’t exactly cooperative or short enough to haul around. But right now, he was weak enough to curl up in his arms and let himself be carried, no matter how awkward it was to walk through the narrow doorways.</p><p>—</p><p>Gerard, Frank and Bob came over the next day, armed with notebooks and instruments. Usually, they’d write at the studio, but Gerard didn’t miss any opportunity to play with Rowan while he was waiting for his own baby. Ray came to the door with her, laughing and welcoming them all in.</p><p>“Where’s Mikey?” Gerard asked as they walked into the living room and flopped down onto the couch. “He planned to do things here instead - he said he didn’t want to be apart from Rowan.”</p><p>“Mikey’s a sap,” Frank chimed in, making Ray laugh and shrug.</p><p>“He’s tired, let him sleep. Not doing too well at the minute.” It probably wasn’t the best choice of words, because then Gerard was running upstairs with Ray trailing behind him, just to check he was okay. Of course he was okay; he looked more relaxed than he’d been in over a year as he slept. His glasses were down at his chin, there was drool on the pillow that was definitely not his, and he was sprawled out across the whole bed. “See? Just tired. Let him sleep, asshole.”</p>
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